


Sating

by yeaka



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe - Succubi & Incubi, Anal Sex, M/M, PWP, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:21:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22011751
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yeaka/pseuds/yeaka
Summary: Ignis sustains his king.
Relationships: Regis Lucis Caelum/Ignis Scientia
Comments: 10
Kudos: 81





	Sating

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own Final Fantasy XV or any of its contents, and I’m not making any money off this.

There’s something so incredibly satisfying about feeling the king of Lucis drive deep into his body. Ignis screams and scrabbles at the hard oak wood of the council table, but Regis’ hands land on his wrists, pinning him in place, hips grinding against his battered thighs. Ignis can feel Regis looming over him—he’s lost in his king’s shadow. He’s on his feet but fully bent at the waist and unable to rise. His legs are boneless. It feels like Regis has been fucking him for hours, but he still wants _more_.

He’s already come twice. Ignis’ release paints the tile floor and the underside of the table, Regis’ release far thicker and greater, sloshing freely down Ignis’ legs and pooling in the boxers stretched around his knees. He has no idea how many times Regis has finished inside him and no idea how much longer Regis can go, and that thought is both terrifying and thrilling. Ignis should probably be more afraid than he is. He should probably be uneasy at the fact that he’s still hard, swinging between his legs and slapping the edge of the table—Regis doesn’t touch him there, and he still comes anyway. He should be fully spent. He’s utterly exhausted. But his neck and shoulders are littered in the wet, red marks of his king’s mouth, and he thinks that royal saliva’s done something to him. It’s seeped right through his skin and down into his blood. The incubus in Regis is readying a human sacrifice. It adapts Ignis’ trembling body and keeps it ripe and willing, eager to be taken. Ignis begged for this. He can’t count how many times he shamelessly offered himself up before his king finally said _yes_. He’s so glad it finally worked. 

He’s so honoured to be the body warming his king’s thick cock. He loves the rough slide of its enormous length dragging along his inner walls. He loves how heavy it feels, how much it fills him up, how wildly deep it goes. He loves feeling it swell up and throb inside him, spewing out more royal seed into his already slick channel. He can feel Regis’ ball slapping against his cheeks and loves that too. Regis’ dark pubic hair tickles the top of his ass. He can feel the scratch of Regis’ belt buckle against the back of his thighs. Every little sensation is glorious and magnified. Regis is so _good_ at it. But of course he would be. He’s the _king_. And the crystal’s turned him into some demonic creature built to _fuck_.

Ignis wants to be fucked forever. He can feel the drool dribbling down the corner of his mouth, feel how wrecked his hair is from Regis’ clawing fingers—he’s still sore in all the places that Regis’ nails have dragged down him. There must be angry pink lines all over his back. His jacket’s on the floor, his shirt torn to shreds. His glasses have been knocked askew and he hasn’t had the chance to right them. Regis suddenly drives home and stays there, just shallowly thrusting into Ignis’ ass while fully embedded, and Ignis groans brokenly, squirming in Regis’ grasp. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Regis breathes above him, voice raspy and ruined, just like Ignis feels. But so much more _powerful_. Regis’ strength has always captivated him. He feels the tickle of Regis’ mustache and beard as another kiss is pressed between his shoulder blades. Ignis moans as another swell of cum fills him up, burning and bubbling up inside him. Ignis’ dizzy mind wonders if this will be the final round—if his king is finally satisfied. 

He’s pleased when it’s not—Regis bites into his shoulder and keeps right on thrusting.


End file.
